What's in a name?
by Forever watching
Summary: AU. In our world Harry Potter disappeared under mysterious circumstances after the war. In another he died as a baby, yet this isn’t quite the one he knows. Dark!Harry, Potter!siblings, Longbottom!sibling, OCs crossover with The Old Kingdom.
1. Chapter 1

Authors note: I probably shouldn't start a new story but hey ho whatever, this is actually a challenge fic for sombody but I can't remember who, so... yeah.

Anyway, this may end up being a slight crossover with Gath Nix's Lirael, Sabriel and Abhorsen.

I own neither JK Rowling's stuff or Mr. Nix.

soddingbloodylinebreakisnotworkingsorryidon'tnormallyswearatallificanhelpit

Suddenly there was a loud _crash _at the end of the hall. Worriedly all parents hurried in that direction trying to catch their offspring so they could get them to their babysitter for the evening. Unfortunately getting ready had turned into a game of hide-and-seek, which had mutated hideously to find-the-children-and-stop-them-from-disappearing-again at the same time. Needless to say they were all at their wits end which was probably why James Potter caved so quickly to his eldest's reasoning.

His daughter put her hands on her hips, the very epitome of her mother as she leaned forward and scowled. "You're not the one who ends up with half a dozen children in their bed, because they had nightmares about the 'scary lady'."

Finally her much aggrieved father surrendered. "Alright, fine, you're old enough and responsible enough to look after the young ones for a few hours but fire-call us if you need anything alright?" He gave her a stern look, "and please get them to bed at a reasonable hour."

Receiving a nod and a pleased smile the two married couples made their way out of the house after much advice giving and reassurances that she'd contact them if anything occurred.

linebreaklinebreaklinebreaklinebreak

Rose Potter cursed quietly as she hurried after two small _brats - _refusing to lose her dignity and run. Her parents along with the Longbottom's had gone out for the evening, leaving her to care for the two youngest Potter's and Neville's little brother. Albus and Daniel sprinted round the corner, laughing; united for once against their sister. Hugo tottered after them, arm full of blanket as he sucked the edge of it. Seconds later they reappeared, terrified expressions on their faces.

Confused Hugo turned round as they barrelled past him. Opening her mouth to reprimand them, Rose froze. Words died instantly. Every instinct screamed to flee. Her little brothers' clung to her shirt, hiding behind her. Hugo carried on happily towards them. He didn't see the black figure that appeared behind him. Screaming at the boys to run, she barrelled forwards despite her instincts, drawing her wand. Grabbing Hugo's hand, she shrieked a hysterical; "Protego!"

Not stopping to look she turned quickly, dragging the small child behind her. There had to be somewhere safe.

Flinging warding spell after warding spell at the door, her lips in constant motion and the watching boys could only hope that it would be enough. Hugo and Albus clutched onto the older boy tightly, shaking in fear. Peering round the sofa, Daniel stared at his older sister, she'd protect them – but she wasn't Mum or Dad. Biting his lip he wished that they were here; that Neville was here, because Neville was brave - and strong and he was Rose's friend. The door shuddered, locking charms and wards blazing white with the strain, sweat stood out clearly on her forehead.

Then, suddenly it all went quiet. The door quivered slightly, worse for wear after its ordeal. Daniel let out the breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. His sister stood – tense and still, wand raised at the ready. Even as he watched, the fight drained out of her. Turning her back to the door he could see the exhaustion in her face. Slumping beside them, she drew them all into a hug, "The Shakes" racking her body. Adrenalin - the thought flittered through his paranoid brain.

Noise so loud it didn't register exploded into being. Daniel inhaled, choked and panicked. Mortar, brick and dust filled the air. He made a grab for his sister. Rose's lips were moving, but no sound came out. Hugo's mouth now a large round gaping maw - screaming silently. Red, blurred light shot overhead. They were going to die.

Three Death Eaters surveyed the room, taking in the door that had crashed into the back of the sofa; chaos and destruction everywhere. As one turned to another for orders, the other raised a finger to invisible lips. Dust settled slowly, giving everything a cloudy, dreamlike quality. A soft whimper was heard. All eyes focused on the couch, they raised their wands. Lips formed words. Power was built up. Focused. Released in one – powerful - rush.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: I'm going to add warnings as I think of them, and also only if they apply to a certain chapter. Yay! The line break is working today!

Can't really apologise for the wait since I've got a comic on old drunky duck to distract me as well, so between this, the comic and college and somehow squeezing in a life thing's get pretty busy.

Warnings: OCs, OOC probably considering what I remember of Death Munchers, non-graphic (how do you spell that?) gore - does it even count as gore?

Disclaimer: I own neither JK Rowling's stories or Mr. Nix.

* * *

_Three Death Eaters surveyed the room, taking in the door that had crashed into the back of the sofa; chaos and destruction everywhere. As one turned to another for orders, the other raised a finger to invisible lips. Dust settled slowly, giving everything a cloudy, dreamlike quality. A soft whimper was heard. All eyes focused on the couch, they raised their wands. A signal from the leader and lips formed words. Power was built up. Focused. Released in one – powerful - rush. _

_

* * *

  
_

Ten seconds. That's all that's available. Nine seconds before a decision is made by the enemy, eight seconds, soon will be the time to act - there is no choice. He knows what he has to do. He knows it might be a trap – could be a test, the other is terribly clever after all. Like Dumbledore. Five seconds. No mistakes – NOW!

* * *

A window, to the left of the couch blows inward, Rose casting a hasty Protego on instinct alone. Glass imbeds itself into the fabric, the walls and rebounds off the shield spell. Two targets are moving, searching for safety. A cutting curse later and one clutches his throat, going down in a garble of blood. The other panics and starts casting like mad. Spells shoot everywhere the caster too terrified of the invisible foe to think of aiming. A stray Crucio hits the back of the couch sending shards of wood and tattered fabric over the children and eliciting screams. Petrificus Totalus and another cutting curse later and the room is deathly still.

Dust and debris are thick in the air, slowly covering the room in powdery grey. Shredded curtains blow gently in the winter breeze like angels wings. The children's breathing seems loud in the stillness forming clouds of mist, the eldest – a girl holding onto three younger boys so tightly her knuckles have turned as white as their faces. The eldest boy leans back, staring up at her with wide eyes, hair as once as dark as his father's now paler than it has ever been.

"I think you should call Mum now." His voice echo's in the lounge, causing them all to jump uncomfortably. The youngest finally starts to cry.

* * *

Perhaps twenty meters outside of the room is an old oak tree, its branches weathered and twisted with age. In this tree is a wizard… or what was once a wizard. A smooth mask of deep red covers his face, two snake-like slits allowing him to see. His clothing is dark, lending him the ability to hide in the shadows. Magic in this case would be unnecessary. A waste of energy best saved for later.

All three Death Eater's in the room were dead, two from curses and one from glass embedded in his heart. There is not much time; already he can see light approaching through the windows further down in the house. Those attracted by the noise will arrive soon, he must choose quickly. Fight or flee? In the end there is no choice.

* * *

She had been trying unsuccessfully to quiet the youngest Longbottom Hugo for a few minutes before her brother's cried out in fright. Instincts going into overdrive she tried to reach for her wand which lay a way off, scrambling to her feet as she did so. She failed to reach her wand, Albus clinging so tightly to her arm in his fear that he restricted her movement. She looked up. A masked figure was in the room; terror started creeping its way back to the surface. She couldn't think straight.

The man slowly stretched out his hand, the gesture hesitant but slowly becoming certain. He held no wand – that realisation taking the fear by surprise and turning most of it into confusion. What in the world was going on?

"They'll be here soon, come with me." Confused by what this person said she stared at him blankly. Beyond the words the voice told her nothing. Bland, calm as though he felt nothing for this situation.

She doesn't hear her brothers' call for her; doesn't hear Hugo whimper and barely feels them try to pull her back into faux safety. She's already focusing elsewhere – she can hear raised voices getting closer, friend or foe? His words make sense now, but should she trust him? They could be help; maybe Aurors coming to the rescue, maybe her Dad - hope begins to flutter in her chest before it is ruthlessly crushed. Death Eaters is a far more likely answer, she does not recognise the voices, they will kill her – maybe worse take her to the dark Lord and his castle of darkness. She knows this knows they will kill her brothers' even as guilt wells for having forgotten about them for a short while. The Aurors should be here soon.

She takes his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Warnings: OOC probably, considering what I remember of Death Munchers, Harry as in character as I can make him, character death, cannonish.

I'm putting up warnings according to what's in a chapter.

Disclaimer: I own neither JK Rowling's stories or Mr. Nix.

* * *

He arrives home early today. The sun's shinning weakly through the clouds and the birds soar high, high, high in the early evening sky. He envies them their freedom, wishing he could join them even as his spirits start to rise like the birds he watches. He smiles, laughing softly – he is alive and breathing and that… is enough.

The grass is overgrown around their home, but that's okay – they can deal with it later. For now he wants to take her in his arms and tell her _we're __**alive. **_The stone path underneath his feet is rough and worn and he nearly trips, but that is fine. This house is theirs, she gave him what others had promised but never given him - he has a home because of her. He is safe.

Their house is a short distance away from a small village, easy to get to if they want something. Though Harry admits that he hasn't gone yet himself, and no he's not _hiding,_ Harry Potter – no - a _Gryffindor_ does not hide. He's just avoiding the press. And the villagers. And the Wizarding World in general. But he hasn't been a Gryffindor in… how long now? A year? Ginny says he can't use that as an excuse anymore, (laughing hysterically, because they were _alive_, so why not?).

He opens the door, adding to the ever-growing list to repaint it at some point and steps inside. Dark hair falls into his eyes, and irritably he brushes it back, deliberately _not_ thinking of someone else who used to do this, though for different reasons. He's tired, though things at the Ministry went well and for that he feels a small bit of triumph – Stan isn't going to prison, just like he promised. He chuckles again, Dumbledore's man.

"Ginny?" He calls, waiting for a response, none comes but that's okay, she said she'd probably be out today.

Just in case she's outback and didn't hear him he decides to go look, and then he might look upstairs too. He wants to tell he loves her, because he does and he wants to let her know – just in case. He wonders how big Teddy has grown since he last saw him.

Here she is, some part of him that had been as taught as a bow relaxing as he sees her. She's sleeping underneath a tree, a book lying open beside her and up above the branches seem to lean over her almost protectively, weaving a leafy canvas over her head. Auburn hair shelters her face teased gently by the breeze, wand cradled loosely in a hand and he is careful approaching her, even in sleep. Just because he had the very real threat of old Tom breathing down his neck, doesn't mean she didn't have one too. There are still things they can't talk about, he more than this wonderful creature.

Gently he kneels down beside her, raising one hand to gently caress a cheek. And his eyes widen and all he can do for a long time is stare, beneath his fingers she is cold. She's been outside too long, her lips are tinged blue – hypothermia. But still excessively cold for someone who burns as brightly as she. And then they are there, bone white masks eerie in the half-light. And he can't pretend any more, she is dead dead dead and how _dare_ _they_. He remembers raising his wand – the Elder wand -and spells being sent back and fury, how dare they she is his his his. They will pay.

Dimly he realises the spells he's using are devastating. The Death Eaters are dropping like flies. He ignores the damage he's taking. A spell of green hits, he remembers no more.

* * *

Authors note:

Sorry it's so short; really this is just an intermission thingy while I straighten out the new chapter. Anyway, yes this is relevant – it's basically getting onto the time travel stuff and padding out the past. So… yeah… we're getting there and yes I did just kill Ginny, oh what a horrible, horrible person I am. Sorry, tired had half a dozen computer problems and tried out a new style in this thingy so… until next time. Bed here I come!


	4. Chapter 4

Warnings: OOC probably, considering what I remember of Death Munchers, Harry as in character as I can make him, character death, cannonish, blood.

I'm putting up warnings according to what's in a chapter.

Disclaimer: I own neither JK Rowling's stories or Mr. Nix.

It was perfect. The restaurant was a gorgeous place on the outskirts of muggle London, away from the mainstream of traffic. Lily found she was enjoying herself immensely; this was their first meal out in a long while – just them, without any children to keep an eye on. Frank and Alice seem similarly relaxed, though she has a feeling Frank's keeping his wife distracted. She could get terribly mothering of her youngest son and easily worried if he was out of her sight for long. Then again she had good reason. The little boy had gotten hold of some Floo powder a couple of months before and ended up in Edinburgh for five hours before anyone found him. Needless to say they were a lot more careful with the Floo after that.

Speaking of which she hoped Rose was doing alright looking after the three boys – but Neville was there to help, they'd manage. It was something of a relief to have her eldest old enough to help look after the younger children, especially since they took after their father. Moments of peace were a god send.

She hoped they weren't giving her daughter a hard time. Feeling a soft nudge to her elbow she looked up, her husband smiling back at her in gentle amusement.

"I know that look, don't worry - they'll be fine. Neville's there to help as well, they're old enough to be trusted now."

They were half way through their meal and had just started a debate on how to get Fudge out of power in the most embarrassing way possible, (on James' part) when there was a disturbance. Heads were starting to turn towards the entrance; frowning Frank raised himself from his seat to get a better look. At the others questioning looks he explained.

"It's an Auror, but he's not undercover, so he's probably having some trouble with the door-man…" Unsurprising considering the flowing robes did look rather like a dress. His expression grew dark as the Auror finally gave up negotiating, flung his hand's up in the air and shoved the other aside before striding past. It took him only a few seconds for him to spot their table and change direction. He ignored the odd looks flung in his direction by the patrons as the talk in the restaurant rose in volume.

Lily couldn't help the swirl of trepidation that flared to life in her as she watched the young man approach. He had dark hair – though lighter than her husband's and his expression was both serious and grave. Unconsciously her hand's tightened on the table cloth. He stopped in front of them.

"Mr and Mrs Potter and Mr, Mrs Longbottom?" He barely paused for their response before continuing. "I must inform you that there was an attack on the home of Potter and family and we have reason to believe-"

Frank was gone in two seconds, Lily meagre steps behind. Uncaring of watching eyes they Apparated as soon as they left the building.

The house was burning. That was the first thing they realised. Frank launched himself down the hill and into the trees that sloped down to the back of the property. It was _burning._

A desperate, broken cry left Lily's lips as she threw herself forward. Not her children. Please not her babies. Strong arms wrapped around her, pinning her arms to her body. Merlin be damned, she wasn't losing them! She struggled, biting, kicking and screeching as she fought like a woman possessed. One of her feet struck flesh, there was a grunt and the grip loosened. She ripped herself free. Streaking down the slope she got close enough to feel the heat against her skin. Then she was caught again.

She screamed, high and loud and pained, but her captor only tightened their grip. Going limp at last, she collapsed into the person behind her, tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Not again," She whispered. "Please, please not again."

"It'll be alright love. I promise - it'll be alright." The arms around her squeezed comfortingly. The voice of her husband was fierce in its belief, and the red haired fought back tears, before slowly pulling herself together.

She couldn't fall to pieces, not yet, not until after she had found out what had happened to her children. She couldn't have lost them, she just couldn't. Fate wouldn't be that cruel.

"Will it?" Some part of her can't resist asking, tilting her head back to gaze at her husband with pleading eyes. He stares back, forcing a smile, "Yes, come on, let's find out what's going on."

Taking her hand he leads her down the hill towards the property, tripping over roots and acquiring scratches from low branches in their haste. In front of them Aurors attempted to douse the flames and a ward to repel muggles had been raised. People were yelling back and forth to each other, gesturing towards the blaze. Where were her children?

A blur barrelled past them – Alice - only to be caught and held back by another. She snarled at him a wild animalistic snarl stretched across her features. Clouds of smoke hovered thickly everywhere. Off to the right Frank was being similarly restrained, while ripping verbally into a rather startled looking man, who James vaguely recognised as just passed trainee Auror.

A flicker above the house caught their attention, causing them to look up. Lily's grip on his hand tightened. "James…" She breathes; disbelief and horror in her voice. He squeezes her hand back, "I know."

Up above, the flames licking at the image, hangs a glowing green skull – a serpent slithering from its gaping maw. The Dark Mark. After all this time, the Dark Mark. A reporter appears from nowhere, thrusting a dicto-quill into their faces, the dark haired father pulls his wand and stuns him without really thinking about it. It had been quiet for so long, he should have known, should have known that three years of quiet meant nothing. This was all just another plot in the grand scheme of things.

He doesn't want to think of what this could mean in the long run - it can't be starting again.

"Potter!" A man called out, jogging over to them. He nodded to them both, before addressing him. "Damn, I'm sorry about this. I've got teams out searching for your kids, I'll know if they find anything."

As her husband starts in on questioning the other Auror she drifts slowly away, approaching a rather haggard looking Alice. She looks forlorn, lost and rather small, standing all alone before the burning building. When she's within a few feet her friend turns, firelight casting dark shadows across her pale face. She looks so different from the confident, strong fighter of the last war.

Lily said nothing, simply standing beside her companion feeling as numb as _that_ day so long ago. Why was this happening again? _We shouldn't have left them alone…_

Then those pale lips parted, "They've found Neville, he's at St Mungo's now, but… Hugo…" She trails off, lips pressed together in a taught line, and this is how she remembers her friend best.

She knows, almost instinctively what she must say, and inside she knows that it is the right choice. If she can ease the conflicted instincts of this woman in the slightest... then... This is what will work best in the long run. Gently she places a hand on her friend's shoulder. "You go, your son needs you. We'll stay and find the children; we will bring Hugo to you when we find him."

The 'if' goes unsaid. For a second Alice looks at her, whisps of white floating between them, before she nods decisively. "If you're sure." And then she's gone, off to rescue the new Auror from her husband's grasp.

They'd been at this for hours, various _lumos _spells showing the travels of the searchers in their quest as they wove between the trees. Scratches litter their skin, roots ambush feet and heaps of fallen leaves conceal pits to catch the unwary. Mud that hasn't frozen over causes them to slip and slide down slopes and up hills. Smart clothes are now ruined but neither care. They haven't seen anyone else in hours.

"Daniel!" They cry, "Hugo! Rose, Albus where are you?"

They peer in between tree branches, in muddy dips and hollows, they part bushes – anywhere a child might hide.

Their breath clouds in the cold air, James shivers from the chill – neither of them stopped for their coats, but Lily doesn't seem to feel it. They stagger on, steadying each other when needed. Faces are flushed and raw, fingers numb and feet aching.

At length James stops, catching his wife's hand when she doesn't halt. She pauses, but does not turn to him – she doesn't dare to.

"Lily, what if Nev knows something?" His voice is steady but his eyes are pleading, begging her to look at him.

Slowly she turns – not meeting his eyes, and he draws the courage to continue, "What if he bought them time to run? What if he helped them hide? What if... he knows who took them?"

By the time he finishes he's panting for breath, ideas running together, he doesn't say that Death Eaters took them; he refuses to voice that - knowing that if he does that will open up a new world of fear. He doesn't even contemplate them being dead -it never crosses his mind. But he does think of them alone and scared, the boys too little to understand what's going on.

He waits, dark hair sticking to his forehead and glasses slightly askew. The auburn haired woman seems to consider this for many minute before coming to a resolution, looking up she nods firmly. Exchanging a forced smile, they apparate.

The sheer noise hit them first. Healers stride purposefully by, clutching charts or bottles of salve, the odd apprentice jogging to keep up. Others call to each other, asking for aid or commanding others. The whole place looks like the middle of a war zone.

Pair of Aurors' guard a young man between them, his entire left arm covered in burns. All three look slightly scorched and blackened round the edges. A wailing child screamsfor a brother as a woman tries desperately to instil calm. Healers push by James, apologising hastily without stopping or looking, their robes crumpled – hair betraying that they'd just got out of bed. Everywhere someone was injured, crying, demanding information or waiting – just waiting. James looked at his wife, and she stared back with an equal look of horror dawning in her eyes.

A short stumpy figure limped towards them, people avoiding the grizzled old man almost unconsciously. One peg leg clacked against the floor menacingly, the other was still apparently whole, didn't detract from the threatening image. No one was going to take him lightly.

"I told them this would happen. That bastard doesn't give up that easily. CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" He appeared almost smug, one eye whizzing around to focus on various points, seemingly at random. A few people turned and stared at him in apprehension, or offence - one of the Aurors winced, causing his partner to give him a curious glance.

James had to fight very hard not to flinch, just about managing to keep his face straight; he really didn't _want_ to deal with this man right now. He desperately began giving him Auror code for: emergency. Unfortunately for his rapidly slipping patience the man wasn't done yet.

"Multiple attacks and they're running around like headless puffskins, three years of quiet - of course he was up to something! They won't catch me off guard! Longbottom's are on the second floor - 108." The retired Auror barely got a, "thank you, Moody" before they had left him behind. The man shook his head, then turned round to go terrorise some poor unfortunate soul – who in his book just wasn't paranoid enough.

Alice was perched on the edge of her son's bed, one hand cradled between her own. Neville lay pale and still, eyes tight shut. The blanket was pulled up to his chest, his arms resting on top. A moderately nasty bruise was forming across one half of his face – the appearance made him look rather ghoulish. Only the slow and steady rise and fall of his chest showed he was alive at all.

Frank stood before a window, eyes far away from the view of a sunny field – though it should have been London streets. His son's bed was to his right and on occasion he would glance over before returning to his own thoughts. He had had to give up pacing after his wife had threatened to hex him in rather precise detail.

Up, down the boy's chest rose and fell. Two pairs of eyes snapped to the people entering the room, and then looked past them – searching. Both sets of parents visibly struggled for control. Neither fully realised the hope they had placed in finding their children with the other couple. Frank wanted to ask – was dying to ask if they'd found anything, but couldn't find the words. Part of him was scared of the answer.

"How is he?" Lily's voice was surprisingly calm, only a hint of strain audible. Her brow furrowed in concern. Inside she felt numb, like she'd fallen asleep and just not realised it. This had to be someone else's dream – someone else's nightmare.

It was Frank who answered, his wife staring blankly at her son's hand clasped protectively in her own - stroking it mechanically with a thumb. The normally confident man was shaken, hands shoved deep in his pockets and eyes glued to the floor.

"Some damage from the Cruciatus, two of his ribs have to be re-grown – they think he jumped from the second floor window. He has not woken up yet..." His voice became softer and softer until he trailed off.

The silence is awkward, no blame is voiced but it hangs heavily in the air. Why couldn't you find my other child? Why couldn't he at least be safe? The tension mounts to the point of blows, but they've faced this kind of situation before. Logic kicks in – they haven't found any of their children. They know this pain - this crippling fear. None of them should even know what this feels like, what went wrong?

James finds himself sitting on the floor, his back to the wall sometime later. Lily and Neville's dad Frank perch in the only chairs by the bed, the boy's mother hasn't moved from beside him. Enervate had been brought into question, and then promptly shot down, the Healers didn't want to risk mixing any more magic with the potions he'd been given. The reactions could apparently be rather interesting, that is if they simply didn't cancel each other out. So it's up to the pale boy in the bed to wake up normally.

It was odd, this quiet waiting. Part of him wanted to yell and hit and hex and behave as he had as a teenager. The other flickered between feeling numb and complete worry. The worry was dangerous, it kept threatening to snowball into fear and so he compressed it, and then the whole cycle began all over again.

Suddenly a metallic shriek echoed through the chamber. Frank was on his feet, chair pushed back, eyes still focused on the floor. He murmured something about going to check on the Aurors' then stalked through the door.

James wants to follow him, to just do _something. _But he can't leave Lily. He doesn't know how to comfort her, doesn't know how when he feels like _this._ He doesn't know how to keep her from shattering into too many pieces to put back together. It's easier to just sit, and remain absolutely still and just... exist. 

When he opens his eyes again, it's as though he just blinked. He lies still for a while, staring at the dark stonewalls covered in lichen. Slowly he drags himself up, temples pounding and ears ringing. The odd window - boarded up, stares out at him like a dark malicious eye. Above him the ceiling is also stone, thick cobwebs hanging like something out of a muggle horror movie.

He feels sick. His head feels peculiar, difficult to focus on one train of thought before being interrupted by another. It's as though someone's filled it with fluff and dust and- he's going to throw up.

It is only when he starts to lift his head that the blinding pain erupts, tangling his thoughts even further, his ears ring, blocking out sound and Merlin damn it he is _not_ going to panic. This feels just like the time when they went out to celebrate him and Ginny- Ginny... Oh, God.

This time he really is sick. Pushing himself off the cold stone floor violently, he staggers for a few minutes. Collapsing against a wall, he presses a feverish cheek to the surface. No. - wheris he? That sudden sliver of thought brings the confusing whirl to a halt. For a while he just stands there, eyes closed, panting raggedly while he holds himself up.

The place smells of damp and dry rot and that odd, odd smell that only comes with extreme old age. Slowly he opens his eyes. And instinctively recoils - something is glowing by his cheek! Merlin it's on his cheek! Startled he swipes at it only for it to spread across his finger tips and looking down it's accumulated on his robes as well. He brushes at it again, mind slowly gathering enough panic to develop into - get the slimy glowing green stuff off!

A good few minutes later he's out of breath and staring at the ceiling, stone cold against his back. Why haven't they killed him yet? He can hear nothing but the incessant buzzing. What is this place? A prison?

The room suggests so, and it's cold to the point where it's seeping into his very bones. Some of the lichen in the cracked walls _glowed,_ providing dim illumination, and for a brief moment he wondered what caused it to do so. He wasn't bound - no chains or rope restrained him as he'd come to expect from Death Eaters. That fact suggested confidence in his entrapment. They didn't believe he could escape.

There were probably Anti-apparition wards and portkey ones too, though he didn't actually posses one of those so that idea was out anyway. Hermione had always taken care of those kinds of things… They were probably panicking by now - though for all he knew it could have been ten minutes since…

_Ginny's dead. _The thought hit him hard, the blood draining from his face. Home was dead. Nowhere left to go now, he hadn't been able to step in certain parts of Hogwarts since the last battle. Post Traumatic Stress he had caught Hermione whispering to his auburn haired love. He still had nightmares - mostly different ones than he used to at any rate.

Ginny's dead. He closed his eyes against the ache. There was a loss of… something where his heart belonged. A cavernous maw he didn't know how to deal with. Didn't want to deal with. He was so tired of losing people.

He pushed the sense of loss away, pushed away all the grief he hadn't yet dealt with in the few months after… after the war had finished. Now was not the time. He needed his head on straight, he couldn't die – not now – he had promised. And he would keep his promise. The greatest revenge was to live.

Almost unconsciously he crosses the floor to the door, testing the handle. He already knows it won't work. The handle turns, but that doesn't mean it's not locked. Pushing against the door he nearly falls through the opening in shock as it suddenly gives with the shriek of rusted hinges.

Regaining his balance he stares - beyond the door lies only darkness. Frozen, eyes open as wide as possible he strains to catch every noise, every whisper of sound. Surely they must have heard that?

For the longest time he stands there, poised for fight – then as time ticks on it becomes more obvious no one is coming. Slowly he relaxes a bit, still staring into the deep black pit of nothingness before him. He can't see anything, can't hear anything besides his own breath and rustle of clothes. He shudders; the very existence of this portal seems to absorb all light. _If you stare into the abyss long enough, the abyss stares back._

Carefully he backs up; never removing his eyes from the cavern he's unearthed. With his luck there's probably a Death Eater waiting on the other side… or something worse. Shuffling like a crab over to the wall he slowly peels away some of the glowing lichen, grasping it firmly in his hand.

He probably should have thrown a handful of the stuff in first; he reconsidered several minutes later. At least then, he would have had an idea of what he was walking into before he actually did. Even with the plant producing some low level light he still tripped over things. More than once he was certain that something had brushed past him. Occasionally it was as though he'd had cold fingers slide over his limbs. Every time he'd turned round nothing was there - he was sure when he turned back something had moved on the edge of his peripheral vision. He didn't like it.

Harry reckoned he was in a passageway, but where exactly he was remained a mystery. The only thing he was certain of: he was walking straight into a trap. He hated being played with. Everywhere the gloom lingered, reluctant to give up its hold. The odd piece of furniture or protruding wall would loom out of the darkness eerily. Sometimes he thought he saw _her_.

His breath clouded in the air before him, a chill clinging bone deep to his limbs. He vaguely remembered what it felt like to be warm. He thought of summer evenings and a house that seemed so very far away.

This, he decided was a very odd prison.

Suddenly he stopped, twisting around with a frown, lichen pulsing softly in his grasp. Something flickered, barely there. All his senses were on alert. There it was again. He just stared, a figure slowly becoming clearer.

Breath caught in his throat. Relief, fear, pain, hopelessness and confusion soaring through him all at once. "Oh, Merlin," the words slip past his lips. "_Ginny_."

And it is. She is pale, oh so pale in a white gown and she smiles. Unbidden tears well; she cannot be here – not really. His Ginny wasn't covered in blood. This spectre floats towards him slowly. Patches of dark liquid forms below her as she moves. It fades away into the floor, only to be replaced by more each time. Then she stops, hovering and still.

A thought occurs to him. And abruptly he is laughing, laughing, _laughing_ and he just can't _stop_. The figure retreats a bit, almost hesitant. Still he can't halt.

"Riddikulus," comes choking forth between bursts, "Riddikulus!" He cackles loudly. The spectre weakens, coming apart in wisps of mist.

Harry's breathing came in short pants. This, he decided was a very odd prison. He wandered closer to where he assumed a wall to be, the dark shape looming in the gloom revealing itself to be a chest of drawers upon closer inspection. The wood had split and covered in so much dust gauging the colour was impossible. Why would there be furniture in a prison, even if it was old? Why were there no guards? Confusion lingers like a cloak. What had he been doing a moment ago? It was something important but he just couldn't remember...

His feet carried him onwards; how the bloody hell did you get out of here?

Authors note:

Anyone know what Nev's parents look like?

No warnings for this chapter, couldn't decide if it needed it so here you go.

Hopefully there aren't any inconsistencies, I lost this for about five months, started rewriting it then found it again – so it's a bit of a mix.

Why do animals like sleeping on me?


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